


Taint Ritual

by Quinny_Imp



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blight, Dalish, Elf, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinny_Imp/pseuds/Quinny_Imp
Summary: Nimloth, a Dalish Grey Warden, finally discovered what happened to her friend, Tamlen, when he, along with other darkspawn, attacked the wardens' camp.





	Taint Ritual

Zevran hated the smell of darkspawn blood. There was something about it that made it hard to remove from clothes and armour, even when the substance was off. And now, after the attack on the camp, even his tent stunk with it. Maybe he should sleep in another one, he thought, smiling to himself.

He threw a body on the pile of other dead monsters, and looked around, searching for Nimloth. To think of it, he hadn’t seen her since the last darkspawn had been killed. Alistair, Sten and Leliana helped in cleaning the after-battle mess, the witch sat in her corner only watching them, and Oghren seemed to try to forget the horrors of the evening by downing his mixture in higher quantities than usual.

“Where are you going?” he heard Alistair’s voice behind him.

He turned, and smirked. “To find our dear warden,” he replied. “I’m sure she needs some cheering up.”

“What she needs is a friend,” Alistair said seriously.

Zevran’s face turned sober. “And you think I am what exactly, hmm?” he asked, genuinely offended.

For a moment they glared at each other. The Antivan was usually amused by Alistair’s neverending suspicions, but right now it was not the time for this.

“She needs a compassionate friend to talk to after this,” Alistair said, spreading his hands and gesturing around the half-destroyed camp. “Not childish pestering or getting stabbed in the back.”

“You wound me, ser!” Zevran sighed dramatically. He watched with amusement how his words riled up Alistair even more, then walked away, ignoring anything else the human was saying.

He found her by the pond, exactly where he thought she’d be. She sat with her knees drawn to her chest, and her arms tightly wrapped around them. She watched water. Faint moonlight reflected in her ginger hair that was still covered by patches of blood. She hadn’t bathed, just sat here.

He sat next to her. She wasn’t crying right now, but he could see she had been. Her eyes were still puffy, and her cheeks flushed.

“We should have looked for him longer,” she said quietly. “We should have looked until we found him.”

Zevran frowned, not sure whom she talked about, but didn’t ask. He listened. She needed him to listen, and besides he wasn’t very good at serious conversation.

“But we didn’t… Maybe if we did… maybe he could become a grey warden like me and live… instead…” She choked on her voice, and silenced. He put a comforting arm around her shoulder, and she leant on his chest.

She didn’t cry, though. She continued, “It was terrible to see him like this. He was my best friend, and I had to kill him. I don’t care what Alistair said, he was still my friend. He was like a brother. Maybe he could be saved…”

He leant his cheek on her head, gently stroking her shoulder.

“All this, because he touched that stupid mirror… poor Tamlen…” The weak composure finally fell apart, and she burst into tears.

“Shhhh, shhhh…” he whispered, rocking her in his arms. But then he stopped shushing her. If she needed to cry, she should to let it all go. He would stay, and let her soak all his clothes with her tears, if that was what she needed.

But now he understood better what had happened. That strange darkspawn that tried to talk to her was Tamlen. She’d told him about her life before the Wardens, about her friends: Tamlen and Merrill. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how terrifying it had to be for her to see him half turned darkspawn.

He wished he knew how to free her from this pain, but he was terrible at relieving his own.

  


***A few days later***

  


Zevran threw his daggers on the pile next to the entrance to his tent, then slumped to the blanket by the fire. He stretched, purring like a cat. It felt good to finally rest, especially after a day filled with skirmishes with that damn smelly darkspawn. For a moment he pondered, whether he had enough energy to take a nice, long swim in the lake nearby, or just wanted to quickly wash and sleep.

Or, perhaps, wash and sleep but not alone.

He caught Wynne’s disapproving eye. Were his thoughts that obvious? He winked at her. She snorted with contempt, which caused him laugh out loud happily. It was such a delight to get on her nerves. And also so easy!

“Come with me,” Nimloth said in a commanding tone, pulling him up by his hand.

“Yes, my dear warden.” He submissively followed her.

They went to the lake. She stopped, and started quickly pulling his clothes off.

“Oh-ho! My warden! Post-battle appetite is strong in you tonight, yes?” he laughed.

She didn’t say anything. Frowning, and not looking like in a mood for love-making at all, she struggled with a buckle that kept his shoulder pad in place. The more it resisted, the more frustrated she grew, and the more chaotic her moves became. He gently guided her small fingers – he could feel her trembling – and soon his arm was free of its protection. Nimloth pulled off his glove, then quickly washed his arm. He tried to touch her cheek with his now clean hand, but she held it in place in front of her, and carefully studied. She turned it around to check every inch of his skin, and gently rubbed to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

“Tickles!” he giggled, even though it didn’t. He just had no idea what to think of it.

It wasn’t a prelude to any pleasure activities for sure. Her posture and expression were tense and serious. Worried, even.

She checked his other arm, then started taking off his chest piece. He tried to make jokes, and show her affection, but she brushed it all off with impatience and irritation. His confusion rose.

When she didn’t stop at his trousers, and tried to take off his underclothes, he said, “Don’t play with it, unless you’re serious about it.”

She didn’t even smile. She just firmly pushed away his faintly resisting hands, and a moment later he was completely naked, standing there at her mercy, and having no hope for any fun.

She checked every inch of his body. She knew it so well by now, and he was so comfortable with her attention whatever its reason was, that it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable to be so exposed. Not even when she touched and carefully studied parts that usually were not subjected to such scrutiny.

Finally satisfied, she took a deep breath of relief, and sat on grass.

“Now we make love?” he asked, smirking at her. He stood over her, with his hands on his hips, faking impatience. Completely nude. It had to look comically, he thought.

She looked up at him, and finally smiled. She patted a spot next to her, inviting him to sit down. He did.

“Will you now reveal to me why you undressed me ready for consumption?” he asked.

“I needed to make sure. I _had_ to make sure.”

“To make sure of what, my dear warden? That nothing chopped off the important part of me?”

“That you wouldn’t turn into… like Tamlen…” She silenced, while her eyebrows drew together in pain.

“Nimloth,” he whispered. Now it all became clear. She wanted to know he wasn’t infected with the Blight, so checked for cuts or other dangerous signs.

She neared to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I can’t let that happen to you, ever!”

“It won’t.” He sure hoped it wouldn’t!

She would repeat that ritual each time they’d fight darkspawn, and he would never get used to the feeling of dread it filled him with.


End file.
